


Getting a Grip

by thequidditchpitch_archivist



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Comedy, Fluff, Marauders' Era, Romance, The Quidditch Pitch: School Days
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2006-12-14
Updated: 2006-12-14
Packaged: 2018-10-26 15:57:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,139
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10789869
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thequidditchpitch_archivist/pseuds/thequidditchpitch_archivist
Summary: James makes a wish that comes true, only it doesn't turn out quite the way he meant.





	Getting a Grip

**Author's Note:**

> Note from Annie, the archivist: this story was originally archived at [The Quidditch Pitch](http://fanlore.org/wiki/The_Quidditch_Pitch), which went offline in 2015 when the hosting expired, at a time I was not able to renew it. I contacted Open Doors, hoping to preserve the archive using an old backup, and began importing these works as an Open Doors-approved project in April 2017. Open Doors e-mailed all authors about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact us using the e-mail address on [The Quidditch Pitch collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/thequidditchpitch/profile).

XXXXXXX

 

****Getting a Grip** **

 

XXXXXXX

 

Really, they were both complete imbeciles and James was growing incredibly frustrated mediating between them. Their conversations were strained and they both grew physically agitated whenever they were left in the same room. It was all Sirius’ fault, of course, which James reminded him of frequently.

 

“It’s all your fault, Sirius,” he’d say.

 

“I hate you,” Sirius would reply, though he didn’t mean it.

 

And on it went, but Sirius would never admit that it was his fault. The split in his friendship with Remus happened in sixth year and involved Severus. And because it involved Severus, Sirius plotted ways to kill him while they sat in History of Magic since it was the easiest class to feign attention in. 

 

Trying to work on Remus was just as difficult as trying to work on Sirius. James would carefully think out how he’d approach the subject. Subtlety always seemed to win, and James would go up to Remus, giving him hints.

 

“It was only a prank,” he’d say.

 

“I’ve forgiven him already,” Remus would reply, though he didn’t mean it.

 

The two boys never sat together in class any more; Sirius always snagged the chair next to James before Remus ever got the chance. James felt rather sorry for Remus, who ended up seated next to Peter more often than not and had to explain to him what was going on in class.

 

“That’s not the proper wand movement, Peter,” he’d say.

 

“Oh. Show me again. I’m sure thirty-eighth time’s the charm,” Peter would reply, though he didn’t mean it.

 

It was always like that in every class. James decided he was going to save Remus the trouble of having to contemplate helping Peter understand the difference between the Goblin Wars or hexing his own balls off – and, really, as unappetizing as the thought was to use magic to castrate oneself, the thought of getting Peter to know the different between Unic the Understated and Habbersworth the Horrible was truly the worse option of the two.

 

So like all great plans, this one had to be implemented carefully. So when the time came for History of Magic, James grabbed Peter by the collar of his shirt and plopped him down in the chair next to him. With a smirk, James watched Sirius look around the classroom for an empty seat. There ended up being two options – one next to Remus and one next to Severus.

 

One of Lily Evans’ roommates ran into the classroom just then and slid by Sirius, sitting down next to Remus. Sirius’ whole body shook as though he was having a convulsion and he drug the chair as far away from Severus as possible and sat down. James was certain he heard something that sounded quite a bit like whimpering from Sirius’ direction. 

 

“Shit,” said James, “foiled again.”

 

“Oh, I’ve got some,” whispered Peter.

 

James turned and eyed the plump boy next to him. “What?”

 

“Foil – there’s some tin foil in the dormitory. I like to take the extra sweets from dinner and wrap them up in the foil so they’ll stay fresh. You know, midnight snacks and all that.”

 

“Right. How foolish of me not to realize you kept tin foil in our dormitory.”

 

This was not going according to plan. He needed Sirius and Remus to talk, to become friends again, or else his entire seventh year was going to be complete crap. It was only two weeks into the new year and while Remus had stopped cringing whenever Sirius came within view, James wanted everything back to normal, the way things were before Sirius’ brains had completely disappeared and he pulled the prank to end all pranks.

 

The class right after History of Magic was Potions where, thankfully, Peter hadn’t scored a high enough OWL to take the class. Remus had barely scraped by with an A and James had a feeling that it was only because Remus was friends with Lily that Slughorn had even allowed him in the class at all. The tables in the dungeons were set up so that there were three students to a table. The past several class periods, James took the seat in the middle, but not today. He marched right into class and sat down on the end.

 

When Sirius saw where James sat, he hissed and threw himself in the chair at the end, leaving Remus to sit in the middle, looking awkward and confused.

 

Slughorn decided they were going to make the Draught of Living Death. They’d made it in sixth year, but Slughorn’s hope was that everyone in the class could make it perfectly. They were allowed to work in groups of three, which James thought was most promising, seeing as how this would require the three of them to talk.

 

But Remus and Sirius had other ideas. James watched as Remus drained the juice from the sopophorous beans incorrectly. Instead of helping him, Sirius grabbed the beans and did it himself. Later, Remus stirred the potion, but he wasn’t making wide-enough circles, and Sirius took over the job.

 

“What is wrong with you two?” asked James, completely exasperated. “If you don’t start acting like mates again I’m going to go spare.”

 

“Too late for that,” muttered Sirius.

 

“Mmm,” hummed Remus.

 

“Will you two __get a grip__?” yelled James, swinging out his arms in frustration. From behind him there was a loud crash and everyone in the class went silent. “What’d I hit?”

 

“You __idiot__!” shouted Lily from the next table over.

 

Slowly, James turned around, half-afraid to open his eyes. “What is it?”

 

“You broke my perfect vial of Wish Potion! It was my extra credit!”

 

James felt his face drain of color. “Did – did you say . . . __Wish__ Potion?”

 

“Yes, I – oh dear.” Lily’s eyes flickered towards something behind James. From the front of the classroom, Professor Slughorn chuckled, his large belly jiggling with each huff.

 

James turned back around and looked at Remus and Sirius. Both of them had looks of horror on their faces; Remus looked as though he might cry, Sirius as though he might vomit. 

 

The two boys had indeed gotten a grip. A very firm grip. The kind of grip where palms are pressed against one another and fingers are entwined. The nature of Wish Potions is that if the potion is spilled at the __exact right time__ , then the spiller’s words will come true. A Wish Potion was nearly the most difficult potion to brew. Even Severus hadn’t gotten one as good as Lily’s, but Lily was, of course, perfect anyway, so it stood to reason that her potion wouldn’t be any different. Luckily for James, Wish Potions were temporary. He thought.

 

“WHAT DID YOU DO TO US?” shouted Sirius. He tried to pounce on James, but ended up falling flat on his bum; Remus hadn’t budged as Sirius lunged and they both fell over on top of their chairs. 

 

“I didn’t know,” said James.

 

“Can’t you fix it?” Sirius asked as he picked himself up off the floor. “Really,” he said to Slughorn, “I’ll do anything. I’ll bake biscuits or buy you chocolate. I’m right handed!” He held up his right hand which was firmly grasped by Remus’ left. “PLEASE!”

 

“Nothing to be done,” chortled Slughorn. “You’ll just have to wait it out. Seeing as how you cannot finish your potion in that state, you’re free to go. Enjoy your weekend.”

 

“ _ _Nuuuaaagggh__ ,” groaned Sirius. “What are we supposed to do?”

 

Remus began to shake his hand, as though trying to shake hard enough to loosen the grip. “No one can see us like this!” he whispered. “The things they’ll surely say! Let’s just escape up to Gryffindor Tower.”

 

“You’re bringing us dinner,” snarled Sirius. “And our books. __Get a grip__! I’ll give __you__ a grip.” Sirius reached his left hand out towards James’ neck. “Shit! I don’t even have two good hands to strangle you with! Gah!”

 

James watched as Sirius practically drug Remus from the classroom.

 

XXXXXXX

 

Up in the dormitory, Remus and Sirius stood there, looking rather awkward as they held hands. Sirius brushed his ever-growing hair away from his eyes. 

 

“Er,” he said.

 

“Um,” replied Remus.

 

“Floor, best option. You know. To sit.”

 

“Right. I think I’ll get a book and read.”

 

“All you ever do.”

 

Remus didn’t answer, but pulled Sirius towards his bedside table where he retrieved the book he’d been reading. Sirius sat down next to the bed, leaning his back against it and feeling the curtains around his neck. Remus tried to read, which was quite a feat to do with one hand. He managed somehow, with no help from Sirius, who simply leaned his head back and closed his eyes. There was precious silence (which usually was not the case when Sirius was around) for nearly ten minutes.

 

“I have to pee.”

 

Startled, Remus dropped his book and lost his place. He looked panicked and horrified.

 

“You – what?”

 

“Have to pee,” clarified Sirius.

 

“No.”

 

“What d’you mean __no__? I have to pee. Did you see all that tea I drank at lunch?”

 

Remus shook his head. “No.”

 

“Right, well I have to pee so unless you want to be attached to someone who pisses in his own trousers, I suggest we make way to the toilet.”

 

Remus gave a slight whimper, but stood up and walked with Sirius to the lavatories. Sirius stood at one of the urinals and with his left hand undid the button of his trousers. Remus was shaking next to him, his eyes shut, his face turned towards the ceiling.

 

“I can’t . . .”

 

“What? What can’t you do?” asked Remus, his voice sounding slightly hysterical.

 

“I can’t – the zipper. I need you to help.”

 

“ _ _No__ , absolutely not. I don’t think so.”

 

“It’s just the zipper!” cried Sirius, bouncing back and forth from one foot to the other. “I can take it out and hold it myself. Look, I __really__ have to go.”

 

“Then – go – AHHHH – __what are you doing with my hand?_ _ ”

 

Sirius grabbed Remus’ free hand and curled his fingers around the waistband, holding the trousers taunt so that Sirius could let the zipper down.

 

“Oh, shut it,” snapped Sirius. “It’s not as though I’m molesting – oh, hello, Professor.” Luckily, any revealing parts of him were still inside his pants, safely out of sight.

 

Remus let out a rather girly-sounding cry as he turned towards the bathroom door.

 

“Hello, Professor Dumbledore,” he mumbled.

 

“I heard you boys had found yourself in quite a state. Why didn’t you go visit Madam Pomfrey to fix you up?” Dumbledore stroked his beard in a thoroughly unnerving way. “What type of spell was it?”

 

“James broke a vial of Wish Potion,” said Remus, “just as he told Sirius and me to ‘get a grip.’”

 

“How unfortunate,” said Dumbledore. “Are you quite finished, Mr. Black?”

 

“Er, I haven’t actually begun . . .”

 

“Well, do hurry it up. I shall turn my back if it will make you more at ease.”

 

Remus cringed and looked at Sirius who quickly relieved himself and zipped up his trousers.

 

“All right, Professor,” said Sirius.

 

“Let me see your hands,” said Dumbledore, facing the two Gryffindor boys once again. “Yes, yes, my, that __is__ a good grip, isn’t it?”

 

“Can you undo us, sir?” asked Remus eagerly. 

 

“May I ask why Mr. Potter would want his two best mates to ‘get a grip,’ as you say?”

 

Remus and Sirius exchanged uncomfortable glances. Sirius ran his fingers through his hair and looked around the toilets for several moments before he finally decided to look back at Dumbledore. Remus remained silent.

 

“I suppose . . .” Sirius began, “that we’ve not been the best of mates this term. After the whole . . . thing – event – with whatisname neither of us has been . . . you know . . . well. __You know__.”

 

“Eloquently put, Mr. Black. Remus, would you care to add to any of that?”

 

Remus looked at Sirius in disgust. “I suppose I should just translate? I’m fluent in Sirius.”

 

“That would be most helpful,” replied Dumbledore.

 

“Sirius and I haven’t exactly got on well since the end of last term when he sent Snape to the Shrieking Shack. James has felt the tension between us.”

 

Dumbledore tapped his fingers together, as though in deep thought. “Well, it’s probably best that the Wish Potion is temporary.”

 

“Right,” said Sirius, “but how temporary is temporary exactly? An hour?”

 

“I should think that you’ll be back to normal come Monday.”

 

“ _ _Monday__? Did he just say Monday, Remus?”

 

Remus barely even nodded. 

 

“It’s not the apocalypse,” said Dumbledore. “At least, I don’t think it is. . . .”

 

“Sir, is there any way to speed up the process?” asked Remus. “That is to say, can we do anything to get our hands back?”

 

“Perhaps getting a grip in the figurative sense might break your literal grip on one another,” suggested Dumbledore. “There’s chocolate pudding tonight if you can be so swayed as to join your classmates for dinner. Otherwise, I’m sure there’s a Head Boy around someplace willing to sneak into the kitchens to feed his mates?” Dumbledore chuckled as he left the bathroom and went back down the stairs.

 

“He’s completely mad,” said Sirius, his voice full of awe.

 

“Can we get out of the bathroom, please?”

 

“Oh, all right.”

 

The two boys made their way back to the seventh-years’ dormitory. Once inside, Sirius turned towards his bed, while Remus turned towards his on the other side of the room. They managed to pull each other over onto the floor once again with a crash and a bang as they landed on Peter’s trunk, spilling the contents.

 

“What – what the hell is all this bloody stuff?” Sirius picked something off the floor, sniffed it, and made retching noises. “ _ _Uuurrrrgggahhh__ _._ I think that used to be a sock!”

 

Remus tried to adjust himself so that he was seated on the floor on his bum. “This looks like tin foil.” He paused. “. . . What’s Peter doing with all this tin foil?”

 

“Who cares? He’s a bloody nuisance—”

 

“A bloody nuisance who’s your friend,” interrupted Remus. “You’ve no respect for anyone and you’ve certainly no respect for friendship. You take advantage of anyone who gives you the right kind of smile.”

 

“And you’re so desperate for friends you’ll __let__ them take advantage. You’ve always got a footprint on your face where someone’s walked all over you.”

 

“No,” said Remus, “only you. __You__ walk all over me and I completely allow it every time. Or, every time until last term. No more, Padfoot, no more. I cannot allow myself to feel like crap where you’re concerned.”

 

Sirius had been trying to undo a bit of the tin foil to see what was wrapped inside. He paused at Remus’ words and looked over at the other boy. “You haven’t called me Padfoot since April.”

 

“Oh,” said Remus.

 

“Yeah,” said Sirius.

 

“That’s . . . I hadn’t realized.”

 

“I didn’t think you had. I remember. I always did like the way you said my name.”

 

Remus turned a rather delicious shade of pink, especially about the ears, but he cleared his throat and took his wand out of his pocket and waved it about, sending all of the contents of Peter’s trunk back inside it.

 

“Perhaps we should get started on our weekend homework.”

 

“You can get started on it,” sighed Sirius, “and I’ll watch.”

 

“Homework’s very important. You shouldn’t—”

 

“I’m right-handed.” Sirius held up his right hand, which was still joined with Remus’ left. “Can’t write. Think McGonagall will let me out of the homework? Can’t possibly write without a hand!”

 

“We’ll do our homework together,” suggested Remus, “that way you’re working that mind of yours a little bit, though we’ll try not to overload it. I’m not certain you’ve actually used it in several months.”

 

“Well, summer holiday and so on and so forth. Don’t do much brain activity when there’s no school.”

 

Remus stood up, though he had to hunch over and take Sirius’ free hand to help him stand as well. He went over to his desk and began to take out his Transfiguration things to begin the weekend homework.

 

“ _ _Accio Sirius’ chair_!_ ” he said.

 

Sirius’ chair flew across the room and the boys had to duck to miss getting hit by it.

 

“Brilliant. You need to work on your aim a bit, don’t y’think?”

 

“Shut up.” Remus sat down in his chair as Sirius carefully righted the other one with his left hand and sat down as well. “If you didn’t use your brain, what __did__ you do over the summer?” He flipped through his Transfiguration textbook to find the chapter they’d just gone over in class.

 

“Um. Wanking mostly. Nearly every day, in fact.”

 

“Lovely. __The Importance of Human Transfiguration__ ,” Remus read. 

 

“Does my wanking bother you?”

 

“Only when you forget to Imperturb your bed curtains so I can hear you.”

 

“I do that on purpose just to see you blush.”

 

Sirius smirked as Remus’ face began to turn pink again, but he ignored him and focused on his textbook. “You don’t suppose we could transfigure ourselves into something and slip out of the grip?”

 

Sirius shook his head. “I already tried to become Padfoot and it didn’t work.”

 

“When’d you try that?”

 

“Earlier,” said Sirius. “I couldn’t even transform, but I think that’s because you’re attached to me and you’re not an Animagus.”

 

Remus didn’t push the topic, but he also looked highly skeptical. Before he got a chance to start the homework, James came into the dormitory with Peter trailing behind him.

 

“I come bearing food,” he said, setting down the food on Remus’ desk, paying no attention to the parchment and textbook. 

 

“No pudding?” asked Sirius.

 

“Peter ate it.”

 

“Eedn’t,” said Peter, his mouth full. He gave them a toothy grin; his teeth were black from chocolate.

 

“I hate you,” muttered Sirius.

 

Remus picked at the food, but none of it entered his mouth. “My hand is cramped.” He swung his left hand and shook his wrist.

 

“What’re you doing? Trying to shake me off?”

 

“My fingers hurt!”

 

“So fucking what!” cried Sirius. “My fingers hurt, too!” He watched as Remus continued to shake their hands. “James? Did you bring anything to drink? I’m right thirsty, mate.”

 

“NO!” shouted Remus. “You can’t drink. I’m not going back into the toilets with you. No way. Absolutely not. I __refuse__.”

 

“What’re you going to do if I need to pee again? Let me piss myself?”

 

“I’ll __bite__ you,” threatened Remus.

 

“I’ll __like__ it.”

 

“Not when you turn into a werewolf, you won’t.”

 

“Shut up. We all know that only works on the full moon.”

 

“Are you __sure__?” Remus challenged.

 

Sirius swallowed. “Well. No. Are you going to hit me?”

 

“What?”

 

“You look – your eyes – I think if they could go all red, they would. You look right angry.”

 

“I’ve no use for my left hand! I’m stuck on __you__ of all people and I can’t get unstuck!”

 

“And I’m the shittiest person to get glued together with, then?” snapped Sirius, beginning to feel rather wretched. 

 

Remus held Sirius’ gaze for a moment before dropping his eyes. He didn’t answer.

 

James rubbed the back of his neck and cleared his throat. “Er,” he said. “I don’t think . . . I don’t think I’m going to stay here . . . in the dormitory . . . tonight. . . . I think I’ll stay downstairs in the common room so you two can sort out whatever it is that needs . . . sorting.”

 

“That’s a good idea,” said Remus.

 

“I wouldn’t want to be around when we get use of our hands back,” said Sirius. “’Cause I’ll use mine to strangle you with.”

 

“I’ll use mine to not stop him,” added Remus.

 

“After I’m done strangling you, I’m going to curse your bits off.”

 

“And I’m going to not stop him, again.”

 

James actually looked rather ill. He nodded and grabbed his blanket off his bed and took off his uniform tie. “Right, then,” he mumbled as he exited the dormitory. “COME ON, WORMTAIL!” he yelled from halfway down the stairs. Peter grabbed a blanket and a couple balls of tin foil and ran out after James, yelling back, “But I don’t have my pajamas!”

 

“It’s only eight-thirty,” said Remus miserably. “Do you suppose we should talk about this? Perhaps we should try to get a grip on ourselves.”

 

“What’s there to say? We’re glued together. End of story.”

 

“No. I mean. Dumbledore said we might have to __get__ a grip to the __lose__ the grip.”

 

“Ah,” said Sirius.

 

“Yeah,” said Remus.

 

“You should start.”

 

“Me? Why me?”

 

“You brought it up.”

 

“But you’re the one who’s the giant prick.”

 

“You wish I was a giant prick.”

 

Remus’ cheeks reddened for about the thousandth time that day. “What’s __that__ supposed to mean?”

 

“I think you know.”

 

“I bloody well __don’t__ know. This is your problem!”

 

“What is?”

 

“I already said it once, didn’t I? You take advantage of people. You took advantage of me. What were you thinking, sending Severus to the Shack?”

 

Sirius shook his head. “I wasn’t thinking at all, that’s what I’ve been saying all along!”

 

“You could at least act sorry about it. Apologize or something. Because right now all I feel is that you don’t give a Threstral’s arse about our friendship.”

 

“That’s not true,” said Sirius calmly. “What am I supposed to say? I’m sorry. There I said it, but you’re not about to believe me. I was angry at Snivellus. You know what he does to me. Makes me lose all rational thought and not in the good way.”

 

“Why did it have to be __me__?” whispered Remus. “Why couldn’t you have done something to hurt James or Peter? You don’t even __like__ Peter. Do you . . . like him more than me?”

 

“ _ _No__. Never.”

 

“Then why?”

 

Sirius shook his head again. “Because I knew you’d forgive me. I thought you’d forgive me.”

 

“Because I let people walk all over me,” concluded Remus with a sigh.

 

“I don’t mean to. I’ll never do it again. I don’t __like__ not being mates. It drove me mad all summer. Normally you write me more than anyone else. I can always count on your owls, but this time you didn’t send anything. Believe me, James is a right old bore during the summer holidays.”

 

“You didn’t send me an owl, either. You could’ve.”

 

“No, I couldn’t have done. What if I’d sent you a letter and you didn’t write back? I would’ve been more miserable than ever.”

 

“I see. You’re an idiot.”

 

“I think we’ve established that with the sending of Snape to the Shack.”

 

Remus nodded. “What time is it now?”

 

“Eight forty-one.”

 

“Brilliant. Not even close to bedtime. What’re we going to do with this?” Remus held up their hands. “Haven’t we got a grip yet?”

 

“Did you forgive me?”

 

“Yes, I have. I don’t really trust you, but trying to stay angry with you all the time is exhausting.”

 

“I really didn’t think you’d be quite so terribly angry.”

 

Remus shrugged. “I suppose . . .”

 

“You suppose what?”

 

“Nothing. Forget it. I do wish this was over. How’re we supposed to sleep tonight?”

 

Sirius’ eyes grew wide. “I don’t know. The beds aren’t big enough for two. I sleep on my stomach.”

 

“I sleep on my side.”

 

“Can we plot the ways we’re going to torture James over the next few weeks?”

 

“Absolutely. I think itching powder in his pants, for starters.”

 

“Itching powder __everywhere__ , for starters.”

 

“And Madam Monroe’s Dye for Magical Manes in his shampoo. I think pink.”

 

“No,” said Sirius, shaking his head, “Slytherin green.”

 

“We could make him break out in purple boils.”

 

“On his __arse__.”

 

“This is all elementary. We need something better.” Remus tapped his chin with his forefinger. “We should coat his pants in Shrinking Solution – not enough to make __them__ shrink, but enough to make his privates go down several sizes when he puts them on. It’s temporary, of course, but he won’t know that.”

 

“I __did__ say I was going to curse his bits off. . . .” Sirius grinned. “You’re a genius. I love you sometimes.”

 

Remus went pink again and nodded. “Right. Sometimes.”

 

“Actually, most of the time. Do you have any of that Sleep Potion from Madam Pomfrey? We could just sleep this Wish Potion off.”

 

Remus nodded. “Yeah, I do. Though, only enough for one of us. Or if we both take it, it’ll only last four hours or so.”

 

“You take it,” said Sirius. “You’re the one who seems more adverse to the idea of being stuck together.”

 

Remus nodded. “Thanks. How’re we going to . . .?”

 

“Sleep? I don’t know. Let’s figure it out.” Sirius got up and pulled Remus up as well. He went to his bed and laid down on his stomach, his arm stretch out to where Remus still stood by his bed. “You have to get __in__ , you know. To figure this out.”

 

“Right.” Remus climbed into the bed and got on his side, facing Sirius. At first he put their hands in front of him, but the only way to get them both comfortable found their hands much too close to Remus’ front. He moved their hands to his side, by his hip, but that also seemed too intimate, as Sirius’ arm was practically curled around him.

 

“Make a bloody decision.” Sirius cracked one eye open. “I won’t be able to fall asleep like this. Here, hold on.” He sat up and climbed over Remus, pushing him until they had switched sides of the bed. “There.” Sirius laid down on his side behind Remus and moved his arm so that their hands were by Remus’ stomach, making their bodies press together, back to front. “Why’re you so goddamn tense? This is the only way it’ll work. I can sleep on my side if I have to.”

 

“Uh . . .” said Remus.

 

Sirius sniffed Remus’ neck. “You smell good.”

 

“Nuh,” Remus replied.

 

“Like . . . grass, but good grass. Know what I mean?”

 

“Er . . .” responded Remus.

 

“Can’t you speak?”

 

“No, I—”

 

Remus stopped speaking as Sirius adjusted his arm around him and brushed against the front of his trousers.

 

“Moony? Is that a . . .”

 

“ _ _Don’t say it__.”

 

“You’re not – are you __hard__?”

 

“NO!” cried Remus. “Oh, god, get away from me.”

 

“I can’t! I’m glued to you! You’re – did __I__ do that to you?”

 

“NO!” shouted Remus. “Shut up. God, shut up. It’ll go away – __what are you doing?__ ” 

 

“Nothing,” said Sirius as he drug both their hands over the bulge in Remus’ trousers.

 

“You’re touching me. Oh, god, stop it.”

 

“Do you really want me to?”

 

“Yes.”

 

“ _ _Really__?”

 

“. . . Yes.”

 

“Are you __sure__?”

 

“N . . . yes.”

 

“N’yes? I don’t know what that means.”

 

Remus pulled his body away from Sirius and sat up. “Stop,” he whispered, looking sad and frightened. “Really, stop.”

 

“Why?” He pulled their joined hands until Remus could feel the bulge in Sirius’ trousers. 

 

“GAH!”

 

“What is with the noises? We mutually made one another hard.”

 

Remus shook his head. “It’s a natural reaction. I’ve never had anyone so close to me in my bed. It’s excus—”

 

“It is __not__ excusable, you great ninny.”

 

“Oh, good, name calling. This is always my favorite part of our rows.”

 

“You need some help with that, I’m sure,” said Sirius, gesturing towards Remus’ erection. “And I need you to help me with mine. I’m right handed, but obviously your right hand is free to touch me all it wants.”

 

“This isn’t funny!”

 

“I’m not laughing.”

 

“ _ _Stop molesting me__.”

 

“You’re so over dramatic. Stop analyzing and just feel.”

 

For a moment, Sirius thought Remus might do just that for he closed his eyes as Sirius used his free hand to feel him through the thin Hogwarts trousers.

 

“No!” Remus pushed Sirius’ hand away. “This is __not funny__. Why do you think I was so angry with you over Sniv – __Severus__? Because I wanted you and not only did you not want me back, but you betrayed me.”

 

“Why d’you think I’ve been such an unbearable git lately? Because I thought I could never have you after what I did.”

 

Remus was quiet, though the expression on his face was a mixture of anxiety and mistrust. 

 

“I’m going to kiss you now and you better not stop it.”

 

Sirius leaned his head forward and kissed Remus. He swept his tongue across the other boy’s and reached his hand up to curl around the back of Remus’ neck. His other hand tangled in the front of his shirt, pulling him forward. Neither of them noticed. It took a moment before Remus put his hands on Sirius’ back, his short fingernails digging into his skin.

 

“Let me touch you,” said Sirius, his hands going to the buttons on Remus’ trousers. “Let me – LOOK!”

 

Remus looked down at their newly freed hands. “Oh, good.”

 

“Thank Merlin. I need my right hand right about now.” Sirius smiled and undid Remus’ trousers, reaching his hand in and grasping the other boy’s erection. “Uh, your skin is so bloody hot.”

 

“I’m always hot,” said Remus breathily, his eyes fluttering closed as Sirius stroked him. “Always hot . . . ‘round . . . you. . . . Nuhh, you’re hot, too.”

 

It didn’t take long for Sirius to bring Remus off and he came right after, spilling over Remus’ hand.

 

“I guess we got a grip?” asked Remus.

 

“Think the ruddy potion knew about this?”

 

Remus shrugged. “The subconscious is a marvelous thing.”

 

“I hate when you use big words. Shut up.”

 

“But I—”

 

“I said, shut up.” 

 

Remus opened his mouth to protest again, but Sirius kissed his words away.

 

XXXXXXX

 

Remus heard the dormitory door open carefully the next morning. James poked his head through and looked at them. They had slept in much the same position they’d been laying in last night, right before Sirius discovered Remus’ erection.

 

“You dirty fucking tosser,” grumbled Sirius, glancing over his shoulder at James. “What d’you want?”

 

“Are you two lovebirds comfortable?”

 

“Sod off,” snapped Sirius, holding up his and Remus’ joined hands. “This was the only way we could get comfortable!”

 

“Right, right. Sorry. I’m just going to change clothes.” James hurried and rummaged through his trunk until he pulled out a clean pair of pants and jeans.

 

“Do it somewhere else; I don’t want to look at you.”

 

James sighed, but took his new clothes and left for the bathroom.

 

Sirius let go of their hands and turned Remus over until he was on his back. 

 

“How long are we going to keep up this rouse?” asked Remus.

 

“I don’t know.” He kissed Remus’ neck.

 

“Someone will figure it out.”

 

“Let them. God, just smelling you makes me hard.”

 

“That’s . . . nice.”

 

Sirius grinned.

 

From down the stairs, James let out a feminine-sounding wail.

 

“Suppose he found the Shrinking Solution.”

 

“I suppose he did,” replied Remus and he waited for Sirius to kiss him.

 

XXXXXXX

 

****End.** **

 

XXXXXXX


End file.
